


Tainted Love

by coffeesoul



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Clubbing, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hangover, Implied Sexual Content, Kinky, Leather Kink, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) is a Tease, Levi is a jock, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Partying, Pole Dancing, Sex Toys, Smut, Tattooed Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), armin is a manipulative devil and he knows it, connie is the best wingman, lap dance, pierced marco, red pumps, sassy armin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesoul/pseuds/coffeesoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Trost University life goes on following the script: lessons, projects to complete (with the holy help of freckled Mother Theresa, aka Marco Bodt) and week-end parties which Jean and his liver should start to avoid. But just when Jean swore he would drink only water, he notices that his friends always go missing during any big party. He notices that maybe Marco hides something beneath his shiny freckled smile. He notices rumors about a mysterious group of people that spice up every event they infiltrate, with their combat boots and leather attire. Jean is sure that everyone knows, but no-one speaks. So he can only keep going from party to party, in order to link all the pieces together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Party guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is my first contribute to the fandom, I hope you'll enjoy it. I got this stupid idea of super secret kinky university club from the beginning of Marilyn Manson's Tainted Love video... you know the part where he and his friends rock the prosy preppy party? Well, that part! If you watch it, you can understand better the urge that hit me to write down all of this. I'm sorry this is not beta'd, English it’s not my first language and I don't know anything about American university other than what I see on tv, so I'm sorry if I messed up and feel free to correct me.

Jean groaned loudly from the desk on which he was smashing his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Dude” whined his friend Connie, a funny easy-going guy Jean knew since they were three with a never changing buzz-cut and crude humor, bringing a hand on his forehead “Keep your sorrow down.”

“I swear I’ll never drink again” Jean groaned again, his skin color still slightly pale “I’ll only drink water. And iced tea during festivities.” Connie rolled his eyes, knowing all too well what the other boy were going to say: every time they faced a Monday morning after a party was the same old story.

“We all know that your holy intentions will last till Friday evening, Jeanny boy!” chirped Sasha, the brunette girl with her hair messily tied in a ponytail, currently crunching down an energetic snack while browsing a cooking magazine.

“Babe, keep your _hunger_ down.” begged Connie, as though keeping the hunger down was possible –and more importantly, possible for his girlfriend Sasha- joining his hands before his eyes. The bald guy was better at dealing with his hungover, but he still suffered of migraine and the lively chatting in the classroom didn’t exactly help his case.

Sasha giggled and shrugged “Don’t complain baldie, not my fault you two have the resistance of two rainbow-colored mini pony!”

“Or maybe you have the alcohol tolerance of a damn irish truck driver!” Jean snorted, ignoring the horse pun and thinking why again he accepted to accompany the couple to last night get-together. _‘Cause I’m the vice-captain of the soccer club and everyone want my perfect round sassy ass at their parties. No Kirschtein, no party. Yeah, that’s me._

The two-toned haired guy nodded to himself, satisfied. It definitely wasn’t because all his other friends had the fucking irritating habit to _vanish_ from the face of this ungrateful college-centered world every time there was a major event. Like last night. Or last week. Or the week before the last. Now that Jean noticed, Trost University had the young healthy people going around to celebrate the end of the week in any dormitory-room, or frat house, available. Who was him to oppose such old traditions? No one, let me tell you, so Jean Kirschtein humbly conformed, having earned for himself the title of party dog – even if some  envious douchebag liked to use the word “party _hog”_ , _yeah slow applause to you Jeagerdick, for the fantasy of an demented boar, slow applause_ \- with the oh-so-joyful consequence of suffering hungover every other Monday.

Jeagerdick. Or Douche-eager. Or Jeagerbag. On the registry office, his too much good mother signed Eren Jeager: the problem child of the district with anger issues, who always ended up in some sort of brawl. Luckily for him, that saint woman who carried the walking failure for ninth months, adopted short after a beautiful asian icequeen girl, named Mikasa, who acted as nanny and tranquilizer for the boy. Actually, she was his protective watchdog. They were two of the children that lived in his house close proximity, as well as Connie and Sasha.

And then there was the Jiminy Cricket of the group, the little blond fairy with eyes like the bluest sky who went under the name of Armin Arlert. The guy lived with his granpa, for his parents were some big shot managers always travelling the world, so he grew up all responsible and independent like no shit. He was the one who always pull the others out of every predicament. In the beginning the poor boy was heavily bullied because of his adult attitude, the smart thought and witty replies lying under a sweet and soft appearance, but after Eren taught a lesson to the bullies – all the neighborhood knew perfectly well the merit was all Mikasa’s, but _shhhh,_ a little boy’s pride was too precious to be broken with the truth at the tender age of eight- Armin was free to do as he pleased and so and so he was added to the little pests group.

From that moment the six of them all grew up together, ending always in the same school – if not in the same class. Speaking of which…

“Where are all the other losers?” asked Jean, raising his head from the cool desk surface, looking around the classroom with hazy amber eyes. They were trying to regain some energy during a pause between their lectures – college was hard for people who liked to socialize and had to keep up with their school career.

“Didn’t see any of them today!” answered Sasha, licking her fingertips.

“Anyone heard from Mikasa? I know Armin will be at economics…” tried to reason Jean “Maybe Jeager went finally nuts and those two poor souls had to accompany him at the Police Station with bail money!” the boy laughed, immediately repenting, due to his pulsing headache.

“Shut it, Samson. No carrots for you.” Eren’s voice came from the entrance of the classroom.

“Ehy man…” Connie shifted his hands from the eyes just to greet the blue-green eyed boy and his sister, who followed short after him, silent as always, her backpack slung on her shoulder.

“Fuck you too, Merryweather!” replied Jean with a grimace “You’re worse than the chickenpox.”

“Hi guys, how are you?” asked Sasha, taking in the siblings appearance: Eren was as shit-faced as the other two guys, a slight paler tone on his tanned skin and with darks bags under his eyes…?

“Eren… is that under your eyes, by any chance… smeared eyeliner?” asked Sasha, cocking her head on the side and studying suspiciously the brunet.

“No that’s not that’s the effect of lack of sleep I don’t know what are you saying mind your business your boyfriend doesn’t look any better!” was Eren’s rushed explanation and he bowed his head so that his longer brown locks covered his eyes.

“We’re fine, thanks.” Mikasa  cut in, red-scarfed and collected as always, her raven hair framing part of her face, but there was a gentle pull on her lips as she answered Sasha.

“Speak for yourself.” Grunted Eren, collapsing in the seat of the row behind Jean and Connie and rubbing furiously his eyes “My head is splitting and my stomach doesn’t know what’s up and down anymore…”

“If you have to throw up, be sure to do that on Connie.” Deadpanned Jean.

“Only because if he looked at you while puking, he would never stop, seeing your ugly face!” the bald guy tried to oppose, but soon enough he was back at holding his forehead.

“If I do throw up, you only have to call Flora and Fauna and ask them to transform the puke in a waterfall of flowers and bubble blowers!” replied the brunet with a dismissive shoo of his hand.

“Will you stop already with the Sleeping Beauty reference?!” huffed Jean, exasperated. He really, really envied Sleeping Beauty in that precise moment. He even envied the minstrel guy who was sent to sleep under a table, for that matter. _Why did he decide to go to class and not rot buried in his bed? Ah, yes, because of Dad and responsibilities and great powers after great hungovers and blah blah blah. Uncle Ben would be disappointed in him and Peter._ God, he was _so_ drinking water for the rest of the semester!

“Where’s Armin?” inquired again Sasha, a furrow on her brow, putting away her magazine and readying herself for the next lesson “He’s never late”.

Eren tensed imperceptibly, always keeping his look lowered.

“He’s staying in his room today…” answered Mikasa in a sort of undertone “He isn’t feeling well and we convinced him to rest only promising we would bring him the notes of the lessons tonight.”

“Aaaw our poor baby fairy bookworm!” cooed Sasha “I hope it’s not something serious! Like…like… pharyngolaryngitis!” she added with a pained expression.

Eren coughed, like he was trying to suffocate with his own saliva, then laughing his heart out “Oh my god, Sasha! You have no idea… Armin definitely had something stuck down in his throat last night-“

Mikasa blew him with her elbow in the ribs. Hard. Eren fell silent with a pained squeak. 

Jean snorted. Yeah, sure Armin changed a fucking freaking lot since university began, but that was normal, right? Six months ago the poor blonde coconut couldn’t even look in the eyes a stranger and now he surely partied like all of them – holding his alcohol quite well, if you wanted Jean’s opinion. Armin was more easy-going, more outspoken, so much as to trespass sass. Armin Arlert turned sassy, and that’s incredible enough, but the two-toned haired boy had difficulty imagining his little friend having anything beyond a chicken wing stuck in mouth. He wanted to snort again, but refrained, before Jeagerfucker called him again with horses-related names. He would find the time to make Armin spill the beans.

In the same period of time, Eren became more relaxed. He seemed more in control. Mikasa was always at his heels, but she also found her own ground. They were not so attached to hips as they used to be. They were all becoming independent, functioning, almost responsible adults. And Jean began to question his choice in major, since _when the ever steaming hell did his hangover turned him all convoluted and philosophical?! Why couldn’t he wither in pain like everyone else?!_ So he got his focus back onto his headache. _Much better. If Armin wanted, he could swallow inflamed swords, for all that mattered. Until he was happy._

Connie laughed “Where did you learn that word, Sash?” he continued, impressed.

The girl shrugged, delighted “I think some of Armin’s _arminity_ is finally rubbing off me. Praise me gentlemen, for I am the perfect sponge!”

“Yeaaah, alcohol sponge, Sash.” Drawled her boyfriend “I’ll go check on him later.” He then nodded to the ravenette.

“Do that”. Answered Mikasa, nodding and straightening in her seat.

“I’ll try to take some notes for economics and bring them to him.” added Jean as an afterthought.

Eren snorted ”Yeah try, with that clogs you have his nausea will only get worse while the poor thing tries to decipher you writing!”

“I think he’ll manage, since he’s used to share the room with you. You know, he had to learn how to communicate with beasts to understand you. I believe he said you snort when you want to say something…? And you scratch your stupid chin. Just like a primate.” the two-toned boy replied. They were all settled in double rooms around the college dormitory. Eren shared with Armin – obviously, that stubborn wart wouldn’t even be able to find the door to exit the room without the blonde. Jean shared with a guy named Thomas, an ok-guy, friendly but not nosy and, more important than everything else, the guy didn’t _fucking_ snore thanks to all the Valhalla deities. Connie shared the room with Berthold, the tallest boy of his circle of friend, captain of the volley club.

“Eren, stop it. And remember whose fault is, if Armin’s in that condition.” Mikasa chastised, to turn back to Jean once again “You can try Jean, but don’t worry, we have Marco to cover for economics and advanced calculus”.

Eren groaned again, his head between his hands, a resentful glance to his sister “It’s not true, straightly speaking the fault is Command-” Mikasa swatted her brother’s shoulder, effectively silencing him.

Connie and Sasha looked at each other, curious and confused, but before any of them could ask anything Jean had already advanced with the conversation.

“Marco?” Jean thought about his fellow students of the economics course “Ah, the tall guy with freckles who play in the volleyball squad?”

Mikasa nodded and Jean let the conversation die, adjusting before his book as the teacher finally entered the classroom. Yes, he knew Marco Bodt, but not very well, they shared maybe three courses. They already worked together on some assignment. They operated quite well in a pair.

And the guy was hard to miss with all his olive skin, sunny personality, shiny smiles with the stupidest dimples and freckles that peppered his straight nose, his strong biceps and broad back… added Jean’s hangover, _fuck you very much, now shut the hell up, head!_ Jean came back to reality with a gasp and eyes big as saucers.

Sasha, who was sitting beside him, eyed her friend suspiciously, but giggled again when Jean sagged in his seat whining “Only water, I swear!”

* * *

 

With a bottle of water and an increasing need of caffeine in his bloodstream, Jean directed his steps towards the class in which was programmed his next lesson. The buzz of the crowded halls was a constant hammer on his temples, but by now he knew the effect of the hangover was ending.

Jean blinked owlishly at the human plug occupying the space in front of him. And when he said human plug, he intended the football players of the resident university squad. He could recognize his blonde friend Reiner, one of the few freshmen officially playing due to his tonnage and agility. Next to him, there were some junior students: Mike Zacharias, a mountain of meat that really nobody wanted to confront in the street on a good day, much less on the field as an opponent and just beside him, the one that probably was his _classy_ twin brother, Erwin Smith. The big guy was blonde like Mike, but his hair was kept in a perfect cow-liked undercut that, put on the face of a real Steve Rogers and added to the regal posture and perfectly GQ built, could make anyone second-guess himself and every living being swoon in awe.

“Ehi Kirschtein!” Reiner’s voice boomed over the chatting voices in the hall.

“Reiner…” greeted back Jean with a nod of his head and a hint of a smile to the big boy. Reiner was a as wide as a double door wardrobe, with a permanent scowl that could scare people away, but his eyes were always open and friendly, like his personality.

“Whassup, man? You don’t seem to be fine.” Stated Reiner, after giving a slap on Jean’s back with one of his spade-like hands. Jean swore he could see one of his lungs roll away. The left one to be precise, the most tender of the two, because that motherfuker got pneumonia when he was five. _Bye, left lung, I’ll miss you._

“Well, I was better till thirty seconds ago, but… don’t worry, I’m just clearing from last night and I can still breath with only one lung.” Jean said with a dismissal wave of his hand.

“Oh, and here I thought you actually realized your shitty captain is only an illiterate donkey and that the mere thought was enough to shatter all your childish beliefs of actually achieve _anything_ in that stupid game of running behind a ball that you call _sport_ , just like a bunch of stinky dogs.”

Jean prayed all the new invented gods, like Steve Jobs, to give him the strength to not roll his eyes hard enough to control what the state of the inside of his head was. _Of –fuckin-course._

Jean swore under his breath: why didn’t he notice him before? Even if he didn’t see him (and that surely wasn’t his fault, cause his line of view was raised at least fifteen centimeters up, where the eyes of the three blonds were), he had to know that where Zacharias and Smith were, there had to be _Ackerman_ too.

“H-Hi Captain…” Jean mentally high-fived himself, because even if he stuttered, he was able to watch in the eye the other guy. Levi Ackerman was a pompous, ill-tempered, strong-willed and foul-mouthed midget with the ability of petrify or melt (depending on the season) people with the mere power of a stare. His perpetual frown gave him a disinterested and ever-pissed-off air, combined with sharp features and jet black hair, styled in a military undercut, his bangs falling on his bed eyes.

Man, Jean had heard at various parties what girls and - just admit it, because it’s the fucking genderqeer 21th century, thanks Steve Jobs!- a bunch of guys were willing to do, for those blue-grey stormy eyes. Jean’s hangover admitted that _yes, Captain Levi Ackerman was a fine piece of ass. In more sense than one, if you could go over that perpetual constipated attitude. Yes for you, maybe, stupid hangover, no for everyday Jean Kirschtein, now go to your room useless train-wreck of thoughts and please just die forever._

Still, with the height of 5 foot 3’’ he was Captain of the football team. He was one of the strongest player and Trost had never won many games before he took on the position.

Moreover, the little black hearted Furby could count on other talented players, such as the Infernal Catapult brothers Jinn and Schultz, the senior who was the bad copycat of Ackerman, aka Auruo Bozado and the Church guy who was dating a cheerleader with the name of a flower… what was that, Daisy? Begonia? Ah, no, Magnolia. Not counting Zacharias and Braun, the two muscle mountains resting at ease beside the lockers and Smith, the core of the squad, the perfect strategist: every game, every move, was previously analyzed and studied, so that Trost opponents usually danced in Smith’s sadistic palm. Played by the mind hiding behind those caterpillar eyebrows. Thus, why the student body called Erwin Smith “Commander”.

Ackerman was the most deft of the arms, but Smith was definitely the thinking head behind the curtains. And Jean and his hangover both thought that despite Smith’s smooth talk, polite smiles and perfect self-control, he was in truth a great-great-great grandson of Satan.

So, now you have the reason why Jean congratulated himself for staying and speaking to the evil tiny messenger from Hell, instead to run and fly like his instincts were yelling him to.

“Levi.” Erwin chastised good naturedly “You know Nile worked very hard to earn the position and he’s very qualified to lead the squad.” The guy smiled politely to Jean “I know that you are his second, Kirschtein. You’re doing a great job so far.”

Jean blinked slowly, fighting the instinct to salute Erwin and answer with a military “Thanks, sir!”, asking himself if by chance there was a parallel universe where the big blonde was truly his commanding officer.

“Nile Dok is an incompetent duck with valgism problems.” Levi rebuffed, his arms crossed on his wide chest.

“Yeah, good job Jean-bo, you beat Eren to the place! I always thought Dok would chose him!” said Reiner, calling back the two-toned guy from his alcohol induced reverie.

“What, Jeager?!” Jean scoffed, shaking his head “No, Jeager wasn’t an option! It’s true, he’s the fastest and has a decent aim, but he’s a charging bull and sometimes he loses himself in the heat of the game.”

Levi seemed amused “Yeah, so Nile chose you because, on the contrary of that suicidal bastard, you are swift with your clogs. Are you also trained to pound the ground five times every time you score?”

“What the hell are you…!”Jean couldn’t believe what that pompous _mini_ ass said. He bared his teeth, thinking that if he finished his statement, that could be the last time he had teeth to show, but the Commander cut in.

“Levi, I know you know better.” Erwin’s voice slightly icy. Levi “Tch-d” and didn’t elaborate, so the blonde turned instead to Jean “Well, see you soon Kirschtein. Bring your friends to our next game.”

“Yeah, see you around Jean!” added Reiner, while Zacharias only nodded with his head, both turning to follow their Commander.

Jean deflated like a burst balloon, looking for five more seconds the four jocks strolling down the hall like they owned the place, then went back on his tracks, hoping with all his might to be still on time for his next lesson.

He arrived with the teacher, a tired man who regarded him with critic eye but let him enter nonetheless. Jean sighed in relief, scanning the class. The moment he pinpointed Marco, the tall guy was already looking in his direction, a flashing smile on his tanned face. _Damn, too sunny for me._ Jean rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Hi Jean.” Marco greeted him in a whisper, his books opened in front of him. The obnoxious teacher had already begun to speak.

“Still alive and kickin’, Bodt?” teased the two-toned guy, sitting and adjusting for the lesson.

Marco snickered, his chocolate eyes on the teacher in front of them “I should be asking that to you. It seems that partying is not for you anymore, old sport.” His lips stretched on a raw of whities.

Jean snorted “Shut your trap, Freckles. If we must call someone old, then it’s definitely you!” whispered back Jean: Marco told him that after graduating high school, he took a year to work, before deciding that he could prolong his youth some more. But you know, you feel the age difference only at the extremity of your life: it seems that there’s a fathomless gap between six and seven. Or between forty-nine and fifty. But when you are in your twenties…than the world is open for you and everything that’s in your arm reach could be yours. You have only to stretch and close your fingers on it. Feel its suppleness. Feel its heat. For a moment, Jean swore he could _taste_ its intense olive color.

“Yes?”

Jean raised his amber eyes on Marco. “What?” he asked the taller guy.

Marco limited himself to lower his look from his face to his own arm: Jean had rested his hand on Marco’s forearm. The freckled boy looked at Jean again, a question in his eyes.

Jean quickly retracted his hand, hiding it under the double desk they were sitting at. He fidgeted a moment before asking “H-have a spare pen for me?” he tried to cover _whatever the fucking fuck that motherfucker of hangover was doing to his already fucked-up brain. Thanks, Levi tight-ass Ackerman, now my baby brain already damaged by a terrible hangover learnt all you rich shitty vocabulary. I’m sorry Sash, my friend, the perfect sponge it’s me._

Marco lips mimed “Sure.” And Jean swore that boy had actually a flashing shiny smile. He wanted to ask Armin to prove that scientifically, he was sure the blondie could do it. He was also sure that the time arrived to stop talking to himself, for fuck’s sake.

He thanked with a nod Marco and began to write down bits of the words that arrived to his ears. He was happy Marco offered to bring his notes to Armin, because the boy surely would have given Jean a piece of his mind about the crappy work he was doing.

He was distracted by Marco rubbing his eyes and suppressing a yawn.

Jean grinned again “Soooo” he drawled in a whisper, now doodling on his white paper “who was the messed up one? What held you up last night, my good sir?”

Marco gave him a sidelong glance, returning his sight in front of him right after “I went to the party down the seniors’ wing.”

“Really? I was there too…man, that was crazy. There were so much people squeezed in such a narrow space that I wasn’t even sure if I drank from my glass or from my neighbor’s. Tsk. But how come you didn’t tell me? We could have gone together.” Wondered Jean.

“Mmh” Marco’s lips were puckered, pensive “I didn’t  know I was going until I actually arrived. I had somethings to take care of, so I arrived pretty late. Like… late late. Everyone was beyond tipsy by then!” his lips curled upwards.

“By then there would have been less people…”Jean’s brow furrowed “Still I didn’t noticed you strolling in late like a diva.”

“Oh, but _I_ saw _you, Jean_.” stated Marco, a mischievous glint in his molasses eyes.

“W-what?!” squeaked Jean. Mind you, a very manly e very whispered squeak. But still. He wasn’t sure if he liked the chill that went down his spine hearing how the vowels of his name rolled down Marco’s tongue.

The freckled idiot grinned. Then returned to his notes like the _frecklest_ of the angels.

“Marco!” whisper-yelled Jean. “Marco! Ehi, pssst!” He received no response.

The taller boy gave him a quick sidelong glance, imagining what the other boy was pestering him to know “You were sprawled on a couch, hugging your solo cup, squeezed between other corpses. You were so wasted that you didn’t notice me removing the cup from your hands.” His tone was serious and his expression held nothing of the usual affability. Jean’s eyebrows knitted together, worried that Marco saw him in a disgraced state.

“Well, buddy, I’m sorry to break your heart but when I plan to hit the city, before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack, cause when I leva for the night I ain’t coming back!” At that, Marco snickered. Ah, good old Kesha. Thanks for Marco’s smile.

“No, but… seriously, Jean?” the expression on Marco’s face was amused, all the icy edges forgotten.

The taller boy sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I know how it is at those parties.” Half a smile of apologize. “What I meant was… how do I say this without - do not misunderstand me, Jean, but please… pay attention when you get so wasted.”

Jean looked at him dumbfounded. He blinked owlishly: Marco was worried about him. But worried of what? That he could embarrass himself? _Please, been there, done that._ They weren’t so close that one’s mishap could influence the other. So, why…?

“I don’t think I understand, dude, but… I’ll try. In fact, I’m planning on keep going exclusively on water. And usually I go to this event with Connie and Sasha… you know, the ‘Double the Trouble’ duo?” the two-toned haired guy shrugged grinning, trying to get his point through.

Marco held his hands in front of him, shaking slowly his head “No, no, it wasn’t my intention to pry into your business, I’m not… I’m no-one, you don’t have to justify anything to me.” Another bitter smile “I only wanted to give you an advice… you know, bad things happen when your defenses are down and, you know… who are Sasha and Connie?” he changed topic.

“Thanks Marco, but I’m not some… girl that risks her V-card when she’s too tipsy for her own good – admitting you can find one girl with her V-card still new in this age” Jean snorted, than thinking of his two friends elaborated “Connie is the short guy with the buzz cut who plays in the same squad as Eren and me. Sasha is his historical girlfriend, taller, outspoken, always hungry. They come as a single pack. They are good pals, we know each other since we were, like, six years old and Connie still believed that Armin was a _she_.” The boy recalled those facts with a hint of nostalgia in his amber eyes.

Marco’s shoulder trembled with restrained laughter, eyes squeezed shut. “Armin as a girl?! Oh my, does he know that?”

“He knows very well. Always known. And the little shit doesn’t let a chance pass to remember Connie the embarrassing chapter in his life when he risked to jump on the other shore.” Jean was openly grinning. “Since then, Connie dated Sasha with admirable determination. But I think those two are the only one able to tolerate each other. Besides, Armin likes to fool people like that. That episode was only the beginning. He’s sweet and soft on the outside, but his personality is dark and twisted. I’m very lucky to be on his good side.” Jean suppressed a shiver at the thought of having the blondie turned against him.

“Yeah, Armin can be very sneaky and unprejudiced, to some extents... He’s full of surprises.” Agreed Marco with a knowing curl in his plump lips.

Jean nodded, his look focused on the teacher in front of them, who was actually ending the lesson “I think he could be an effective opponent to the Commander” he thought out loud.

Marco turned to face him, the attention of the class quickly growing weak with the teacher’s last words, his eyebrows arched in half amused, half surprised expression. “You really think so?”

“Of fucking course! Think about the similarities: both blond, blue eyes, affable smiles… all things that mother nature give to the most dangerous animals. They lure you with their good and reliable looks…” Jean bent his fingers in a claw style, hunching his back “…and when you least expect it, bam! They strike with their brains and witty come-backs and all the knowledge of every damn mistake you’ve ever done since you began to walk, from wearing mismatched socks on your aunt wedding to the corpse you buried last night. You’re screwed, man. You’re doomed to dance in their little sadistic grip.”

The teacher long forgotten and, luckily for the two boys, long gone from the class, Marco gave in and laughed his heart out, throwing his head behind, a hand covering that perfect raw of white teeth.

“Do not laugh, Bodt, you never know what they can do. Maybe they are watching us now, in this very moment!” Jean pressed, but the boy could no longer hide the smile that was tugging his lips. He liked very much to hear Marco laugh and knowing that he was the cause of the hilarity, spread a tickling warm sensation in the vicinity of his stomach. The two-toned haired guy scratched the fabric in correspondence of his sternum.

“Oh, Jean, this one was good!” Marco said, a little out of breath, finally removing his hand from his mouth. “The Commander and Armin… oh my. You have no idea, Jean. You’re actually very perceptive, aren’t you?”

Now Jean was confused, but before he could ask what the taller boy meant, Marco spoke again. “Soooo, Kirschtein. Wanna pair with me?”

“Who wants to what?” Jean gulped down, feeling that awkward tingling warmness crawling up from his stomach to his cheeks.

“You. Pair. With me.” That splendid freckled soul dared to tease him, pointing Jean before, then himself with his long forefinger.

“For what?”

Marco sighed, but answered patiently, like he was explaining to a three years old child why he must not tuck his fingers into the power point “For the project the teacher just assigned. We have to turn it in for next Wednesday.”

“Are you fucking freakin’ kiddin’me?! And when exactly that zombie of a teacher said all that crap?”

“Just now, Jean. Actually, for the last thirty minutes.”

Jean couldn’t believe Marco had been able to follow the lesson while speaking with him. He looked down to the paper in front of the tanned boy and saw that he took notes. _Pages of notes. Great._ Jean grimaced at his own incompetence but thanked again Kesha and Steve Jobs for Mr. Awesomeness.

“Yes Marco, I’ would really like to work with you in this project.” he bowed his head in perfect _Memoirs of a Geisha_ style “Please take care of me.” He glanced at Marco from his lashes and saw something pass very quickly in the molasses eyes of the other. Jean blinked twice and realized that the freckled boy was still staring at him, stone fixed.

“…Marco?”

The abovementioned guy exhaled, shifting his eyes in front of the room to regain his breath – or that’s what the remaining of Jean’s hangover thought.

“Y-yeah, so. Uhm.” Marco returned his stare to Jean “That’s settled then. When would you like to begin?”

“I don’t even know we had a project, Bodt.” Jean deadpanned “I put my useless ass in your hands. Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it!” he ended with a sort of mock salute, his right fist closed on his chest, right above his heart.

And again, he saw that ineffable shift in Marco’s expression.

“That’s –good.” Marco swallowed “Uh, I- I think it would be best if you tell me when you have your workouts, so that we can fit the study hours for the project between your soccer and my volleyball.”

“Yeah, that’s actually a good idea.” Nodded Jean “Wanna come to grab something to eat?” he offered, gathering his belongings and standing.

“Sounds good. Maybe we can drop to Armin’s after?” Marco suggested.

Jean snickered “Oh yeah… and we can grill out that blond doll from hell about last night!”

* * *

 

In room 204 there were two beds leaning against white walls plastered with various posters of rock bands and films over Eren’s side and photos of their childhood days over Armin’s. The door opened in front of the bigger space, taken by the beds and two desk, positioned between the headrests of those beds and under a big double window. At the bottom of Eren’s bed there was a double door wardrobe with the majority of their belongings and their clothes. That same space at the end of Armin’s bed was occupied with a little door leading to a little bathroom (with just a shower, a toilet and a sink, but that’s was enough for a university student).

In room 204, Armin was sprawled on his bed, his legs half tangled in his comforter. He was honestly destroyed from the party of the night before and not only for the terrible migraine that was weighing on his forehead. To cope, he had the lights off, two aspirin and was wearing his _day-after clothes_ , consisting of an old Trost football shirt, definitely too large for his small figure, and a pair of short sweatpants that once belonged to Mikasa. They were well used and really soft, exactly what he needed on his poor abused back.

Yes, abused, because in the heat of the late hour party and the alcohol high –enhanced by that heady sensation that only two rubbing body could give- he thought that _a pink vibrator_ would be the right thing to end his night with. More precisely, to end it with a bang. Aka someone banging him.

And that’s exactly what happened, with Erwin fucking him senseless into the mattress with the addiction of the afore mentioned vibrator. And if you’re wondering why the sex toy was pink, that’s obviously so that it could match Armin’s lipstick.

Surely enough, Erwin didn’t complain when he smeared the bigger guy’s neck in a bubble-gum shade of pink. And at that precise moment, the blonde jock was sitting on Armin’s bed, asking for his little boy conditions “I was worried when Hanji told me you weren’t at the meeting at lunch. You never skip the organization committee meeting for the final sport week.” Commented Erwin with a soft curl of his lips.

“Yeah, I really hate to have to ask Hanji to pass me the reports.” Huffed Armin, still lying on his bed, curled slightly towards the other. “But thanks to someone’s number last night, I couldn’t even scratch my nose without my back screaming back at me in every known language”. Hanji was the third musketeer of the trio made by her, Erwin and Levi. The strange brown haired girl was the most energetic being Armin had ever known, a coiled ball of excitement, curiosity and spirit. With a perpetual manic grin, a mix of her attitude towards life and pure madness, she observed through goggles-shaped glasses and weighed everything and everyone. She was a lunatic, but the most perceptive and scholarly lunatic that ever walked down Trost halls. Armin sort of admired her, when she wasn’t trying to carry out strange experiments on his circle of friends and the two of them clicked on various level. For example, all the mess that brought to last night as consequence, was her fault. Or merit, depending on your point of view.

Armin was sure that he had some upper-hand with Erwin –mostly revolving around their bed chemistry and thinking affinity, they were sort of _kindred spirits with benefits_. _Lots, of benefits,_ actually: try to be the fuck buddy of the sexiest-best looking-smartass of the neighborhood and tell Armin something he didn’t fucking knew!- but with Hanji… the little blondie learned early in the story that Hanji and Levi were the balancing factor of Erwin and vice versa. Just like he worked with Eren and Mikasa.

So he can fully enjoy this… _thing_ with the Commander, because they both were back upped by their friends and they could –and have to- rely on outsiders with a much impartial judgment on whatever would be passing between the two of them.

“The truth is that you enjoy those meetings so you can implant your ideas into those poor bastards that you work with, and being able to make them accept everything peddling that was all their doing.” A proud smile opened on Erwin’s face ”Watch out for evil Inception guy. ”

“Yeah and the last time I checked, you liked it.” Replied Armin without losing a beat.

“Oh, yeah, I liked it very much.” Erwin’s voice dropped an octave, one of his hands roaming on Armin’s pale and smooth thigh, dangerously close to the hem of his really, really short shorts.

Armin grinned satisfied “I thought you had your fair share last night?”

“I thought _you_ had your fair share last night, since you couldn’t get up today.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be pampered for once. And skip all the complaining shit your friend Dok would spit, thinking that his soccer club deserves better workout hours. Hours that I don’t intend to ever concede even if he could sing ‘All the single ladies’ as well as Kurt. Maybe if he scored an homerun while singing…” Was the little blondie answer, that went lost in a yawn. He snuggled more into his pillow, allowing Erwin’s hand to slip under the loose edge of the sweatpants, resting on the notch between his thigh and his hip.

Erwin raised one of his thick eyebrows, surprised. Not by the statement concerning Nile - _even if the idea of that… how had Levi called it, incompetent duck with valgism problems?, was extremely fun-_ but for the absence of any undies on Armin. “And why is that, Armin?” asked the blond jock anyway, his voice down right business like.

Armin grinned devilishly from ear to ear, shrugging “Your football club is the one that win the most, thus spread Trost fame and bring in the highest income. Hence, my decision to keep your schedule the priority, with the most favorable hours.”

Erwin’s icy blue eyes tightened, piercing the boy on the bed and smacking him lightly on his exposed thigh. The sound cracked the otherwise quiet of the dim lighted room.

Armin chuckled, squirming under the hungry look of the Commander and the tingling sensation of the little spank “Oops, I meant that that was the committee decision.” Erwin’s lips curled again in a smug smile, knowing all too well how manipulative Armin could be.

“Inception boy.” He whispered again leaning on Armin, who rolled on his back, letting the bigger guy’s hand slip dangerously near his crotch and spreading his knees so that the other could position himself comfortably inbetween if he wanted. But “nearly his crotch” was not near enough, so Armin pushed himself up the mattress just enough to circle Erwin’s thick neck with his arms, the large football shirt with the number _01_ and the name _Smith_ printed on the back, slipping down a smooth shoulder.

The little blond kissed his jock slowly, moving his pink lips against the other’s with little teasing pecks, pulling Erwin on the bed with him. The Commander let the other guy lead them, leaning on his small form with part of his weight. A soft moan escaped Armin: he really liked to be pressed under Erwin’s solid body.

Erwin’s hands traced the boy’s wonderful legs, sliding under those sinful shorts. _Damn Armin and his fucking manipulative skills…he knew exactly how to pull every single one of Erwin’s buttons._ No one could crawl under his skin in such a tantalizing and yet innocent way. Another gasp from Armin presented the perfect chance for Erwin to taste with his tongue the hot flavor of the little blonde’s mouth. Oh, how he liked to map that shameless mouth, to nib those little plump lips.

“I like how this shirt looks on you.” Erwin said between a kiss and another, shifting to worship the softness of the shoulder that came out of his old football shirt. He bit the marble skin, slowly dampening with his heated kisses and the natural scent that was all Armin’s and that came with little drops of sweat. Erwin bit harder, leaving a red mark against that perfect surface. Something in the Commander’s chest swelled at the achievement.

Armin laughed already breathless and he escaped the shower kiss by stretching on the bed, giving the Commander more access to his white neck and collarbones, still bruised from the night before “I think that by a Freudian point of view-” he tried to contain a loud moan, succeeding only partially “w-what you mean can be also read as in ‘I like me wrapped over you like the dominant asshole that I am’.”

Erwin grunted, pulling Armin towards him by his hips and pressing down with more strength. _Shit, that little devil would be the death of him._ “Stop hiding behind your philosophical talk and just admit you like to be manhandled sometimes.” That motion had Armin’s breath stutter in his lungs, his already fuzzy head spinning with renewed drunkenness. Of course it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that a very little percentage – _maybe the eight, ten-ish… more like the fucking damned forty, ok, fuck you sue him!_ \- really enjoyed being subdued in that roundabout manner. Armin was a happy sadist with a strike of masochism in his little heart, _and that stupidly sexy soul-eater demon that robbed Captain America of his looks but not his eyebrows understood that on the third time they met._ Armin really had been pleasantly surprised, but nobody needed to know that.

“Never!” answered Armin before Erwin plunged his tongue in his mouth again, titillating the right spot on his palate that always made him melt. In retaliation, Armin writhed under the solid mass of Erwin’s muscles, causing his half-hardened cock to rub against the bigger guy abdomen. That had Erwin catch his breath. _Gotcha!_ , the little part of Armin’s brain that was still functioning rejoiced in victory. Briefly.

“You little devil…” Erwin’s eyes were melted ice, all liquefied lust and blown out pupils, pools of raw hunger that only Armin could dare to look into. And oh, the subtle pride and great pleasure that knowledge gave him! The power to strip of his layers Erwin Smith, the almighty Commander. So he arched his back from the mattress, rubbing with more force against that suffocating hot skin above him, whining shamelessly.

Oh yes, Amin liked to be Erwin’s bitch, because Erwin loved to be Armin’s _daddy_.

“Erwin…” the little boy breathed against the Commander’s jaw, tangling his fingers in his golden locks, enjoying the feeling of ruffling that perfect undercut that the jock insisted in styling so severely… but Armin liked it best when the longer locks covered Erwin’s brow giving him a rougher and a much raw look that better mirrored his personality.

Erwin palmed Armin through the thin sweatpants, enjoying the sensation of the other blonde’s hands scratching the skin of his neck. He put his left hand under Armin neck, guiding  him into another deep kiss as his right one finally slipped under the hem of the shorts and on his boy’s abdomen, avoiding carefully to touch the other’s almost completely hard shaft.

“You’re a fucking tease.” Complained Armin, deciding to quicken the Commander’s action by slowly thrusting his hips against him and nipping his lower lip just the right way to _starve_ the bigger blonde.

Just when Armin swore he had heard Erwin’s resolution breaking in thousands of pieces, a loud set of knocks interrupted the lust-thickened air of the room.

Erwin froze, Armin whined. Literally whined when Erwin regained bit by bit his composure and straightened himself, turning towards the door at their back.

A few seconds after, another round of knocks resounded, irking Armin to no ends. _Steve-fucking-Jobs, who the dared interrupt his precious well-earned breather time when his hands had been already on his jock’s perfect ass?!_

“I swear to everything that’s good that if it’s Eren fucking Jeager, I’ll have his skull opened by Hanji and bring to Levi his poor excuse of a brain just to demonstrate to your _Darth-Vader-action-figure_ friend that the asshole _actually_ has a brain!” Armin was pissed. He didn’t like things or people interposing between him and what he wanted.

And he really wanted a good time with Erwin’s hands all over- _Stop, screw that now!_ “Who are you and what do you want!” he shouted in the direction of the door, his breathing slowly returning regular and the pink dusting his cheeks receding to his natural color.

“Armin? Are you ok? It’s Marco and Jean, we brought you the notes.” Marco’s voice came muffled from behind the door. Armin could distantly hear the two boys speaking to each other in the meantime.

“Marco? Ah-oh, t-thanks… one moment!” the blondie answered, letting out a dejected sigh. No Jeager skull opening tonight. Hanji would be sad.

Erwin chuckled, his hands in his hair, already slicked back as always. But a faint veil of sweat on his wonderful neck and blue eyes still softened told Armin that he had had the guy. _Damn. It. All._  

“Marco and Kirschtein.” Repeated Erwin in a hushed tone, a knowing look in his liquid eyes.

Armin smiled devilishly, nodding and climbing in Erwin’s lap, his arms thrown on his back again “Yeah, told you he would be able to lure him out. Even if Jean is as dense as Eren, Marco can carve his way with practically anyone.” He replied and snuggled close to Erwin again.

The Commander hugged Armin for a moment, letting his hands slip down till he was cupping Armin’s butt “Would you like to bet, baby boy?” asked the jock.

“Don’t say anything else. You know Marco and you know he will get what he prefixed. It would be a win-win for everyone. No sense in betting.” Armin shrugged, relishing in the intimate contact, his dick still painfully hard against Erwin’s toned stomach.

Erwin chuckled, pulling Armin against him and raising a hand to cup his face, he kissed him again, the other hand safely on the blondie’s butt-cheek. “You’re no fun, Armin. Sometimes you can pretend not to know how things are going to end.”

“I know that if you would come back to me after, things could definitely end well.” Armin purred and turned his face towards Erwin’s hand, opening his reddened lips and sucking delicately on the other’s fingertips, nibbling at the tender skin. “Please come back?” Armin _never_ begged. And he was sure that his cheeks were still slightly pink and his bangs a little sweat dampened. Just the slutty innocent air he knew could make the almighty soulless Commander do anything for him.

And –that’s that! The reaction Armin hoped to gauge: Erwin slammed him again against the mattress, kissing him –eating him- fighting to maintain control over himself. Armin let the bigger guy push him down like he was a ragdoll, moaning suspended between pleasure and pain when Erwin bit his lower lips draining a little drop of blood. They tore away from each other totally breathless and wrecked. Armin looked at Erwin’s lips, smeared of red, and unconsciously licked his own.

“Don’t.” Erwin’s voice was guttural, only a bunch of times did Armin actually heard it –without having the big blonde Hulk’s dick far up in his ass, that is. The little blondie began to smile and Erwin was over him again “Don’t do that again, if you want to avoid losing a week worth lessons.”

Armin’s breath went lost somewhere between his stomach and his jugular: that was a promise, not a threat.

“You’ve been bad, baby boy.” Erwin was still a little breathless. _High five, Arlert!_ “I shall see that you would learn otherwise.” Now, that was a threat and a shiver of anticipation run down Armin’s back.

“See you later then, Daddy” purred the blondie, licking Erwin’s lips and resting definitely on his bed.

Erwin run a hand through Armin’s hair and straightened himself, throwing the blond an accomplice smile “See you later Armin.” And before opening the door, he opened the big window to let some fresh air in. Ah, the mindful bastard.

Jean froze, seeing Erwin Smith exiting room 204. “W-what…Commander?”

“Kirschtein, what a surprise. What brings you here?” _Why the fuck couldn’t you wait to drag your useless tiny soccer ass here?!_ Marco swore he could read Erwin’s thoughts as words written overlay.

“Sorry Commander” cut in the freckled boy “Armin needed our notes since he couldn’t come to class today. Thanks for always taking care of him.” He smiled his shining smile.

Jean squeezed his eyes because first, that damn smile was fucking blinding and he already had a barely acceptable sight and second, because he couldn’t bear to watch wicked incubus Smith being dissolved by his own personal (freckled) Jesus. That would be quite disturbing.

Erwin curled his lips in a half smile and passed them, freeing the door from his huge figure “You can say that. See you around guys, have a nice evening.” He really didn’t envy Bodt for his choice. But on the other hand, everyone had the right to introduce someone: he already chose Armin and so did Levi and Hanji. Reaching the end of the hall, the Commander snorted, thinking back to what his little devil said: Marco was  very capable and Jean was dense, true… at worst, he was oblivious like Eren, but at least the freckled boy wasn’t socially inept like Levi. Erwin rolled his eyes, because Armin was right. Marco would get Jean without breaking a sweat. Now he only needed to inform the rest of the almost new member of their company.

Meanwhile the two boys had entered the room number 204. Jean knew Erwin shared the room number 104 with Levi, on the floor directly under that one. They found Armin sitting in his bed, his comforter tightly wound against his small figure.

“Man, that was awkward! What was Erwin Commander America Smith doing in here? Was he harassing you?” the two-toned guy’s eye opened wide.

Armin chuckled “No, Jean, chill. He brought me some papers from the committee.”

“O-oh, well…in that case.” Jean shrugged “Man, you did well in staying in bed, today sucked so much. Luckily Marco took all the notes for you and-“

While Jean was distracted giving an absolutely objective and non-alcohol filtered review of their lessons, Marco raised his eyebrows, looking at Armin. _Like, seriously, Ar?_

Armin shrugged, a guilty smile curling his lips. At the end, he remained that shy guy.

“Ar, Marco was actually able to catch that as well, even if he wasn’t giving the teacher two shits. The guy can really do anything!” Jean was praising the freckled guy, who blushed and scratched the back of his head self-consciously.

Armin nodded sagely “Yeah Marco’s pretty amazing. He can really do anyone too.” He gave Marco the most devilish glance he could master –and the poor tanned guy imagined he saw the burning flames of hell dancing behind Armin, with a terrifying evil laugh on the background.

“W-wha-“Jean was confused and looked from Armin to Marco, but before his little slow hamster began to run on the wheel of his brain again, Armin had already changed topic.

Effectively distracting an oblivious and dense Jean and ignoring a dangerously blushing Marco that glowered at the little blonde devil, passing his thumb slowly on his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for the first chapter! I'd really like to know if this has come out as good as it was inside my head, so feel free to leave a comment to let me know!


	2. Beyond appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made to leave the shower stall, but Eren stopped him. Again. Levi growled “What. Now.” He better had a of fucking good reason, because he didn’t have the slightest intention to put up with the kid’s-oh. OH!
> 
> Levi knew the look in Eren’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be shorter, but man… Jeanmarco feels, right?! And then come barreling in Levi and Eren and those two beautiful dorks take their sweet time in the locker room. After a shower. You know what it means right? But we also have new revelations and the main direction of all this crap is finally starting to define itself. But now… enjoy!

Friday rolled around and as per tradition, Reiner was working out on the field and had asked Bertholt tp gather the last things he would be needing for the evening. The couple was going out to party (obviously, at Trost, week-ends where created for that, thank you very much!) with some other people Jean didn’t remember the name of and would be spending the night out, to allow Marco and Jean to work on their project without other distractions.

“Well guys, have a good Friday night!” waved with a smile the volleyball squad captain.

“Yeaah” drawled Jean, sprawled on the floor of the bedroom surrounded by books “Like we can enjoy a Friday night with this goddamned project that stupid zombie teacher assigned us!” the boy hung his head between his arms, dejected “How can he think we could do it in five days, with all the other crap we’re supposed to do?!”

“Come on, Jean…” said Marco, who sat on the floor a few paces away, writing on his laptop the slow progresses they had been doing, for the last three godforsaken hours. “We are doing fine, once we have collected all the information we need, the essay will write itself!” then he turned to Bertholt, still lingering on the threshold with Reiner’s rucksack on his shoulder, looking at the two and their cemetery of papers with a knowing smile. The tall boy had offered to bring Reiner the things he left in the room he shared with Marco – between their friends, that room was known as ‘ _kitten-box’_ because of the beautiful souls that occupied it. Between Reiner and Marco, all the puppies on earth could sleep safe at night.

“Marco is right Jean. Hold on and you’ll see that your efforts will pay. If you can get good grade for this, the rest of the course will be a piece of cake!”

“Yep!” The freckled guy nodded “Have fun, Bertl and thanks. Say hello to the others!”

“Bye Bertl, say fuck to the others and try not to wear out Reiner too much, they have a game on Sunday!” said Jean with a malicious grin, wiggling his eyebrows, enjoying the multiple shades of red that tinted Bert’s face.

“H-have fun, you bleached idiot…” replied Bertholt, flipping Jean the finger and closing the door of the room after him.

When the two guys were finally alone, Marco turned a severe look to Jean.

“What?” asked the latter.

“You know he’s shy. Why can’t you leave him alone?” sighed Marco.

“Shy?!” repeated Jean “Bert and Reiner are an item since forever! How can he still be shy about it? Everyone at highschool knew and everyone at Trost knows about them… it’s not like Reiner is subtle!” Jean laughed, thinking back at the last volleyball game they of the past year: when Marco’s squad had won, the captain had received the cup and when Bert raised the trophy, from the seats Reiner had screamed all his never ending sentiment for the boy. With the result of a blushing and sweating Bertholt –who hid in the locker rooms for the following two hours. The funny thing was that Ymir, Marco’s cousin (one couldn’t miss that, since they had the same lithe built and the same freckled tanned skin), tried to best Reiner’s act at the next football game, when she thought it’d be a great idea to run in front of Captain Ackerman’s squad screaming “Historia marry me, baby!”. Historia was Armin’s totally un-related true female version: same stature, same honey locks and sapphire big eyes, same iron fist behind all that fluffy aspect. Luckily, where the boy was twisted and cunning, she kept faith to her appearances and was the sweetest little thing that always twirled and used to be hurled up in the air in most of the cheerleaders’ gigs. It’s useless to say that Levi _chewed_ Ymir for that stunt and Erwin had to intervene before the situation got out of hand. Ah, life at Trost was never boring.

“He’s not subtle, but you are an ass. And don’t forget to respect your seniors… you never know, maybe one day you’ll find Reiner behind the door of your shower and next I’d see you, it would be in a casket. With your hair completely shaved. And wearing the fluo tank top Reiner wore on last Valentine day.” Replied Marco with a serious look. “I’d really avoid to assist your parents in such an occasion. So, don’t piss those two off, think about a fluo coffin and now go on and dig out something useful for our essay, thank you very much.”

Jean was dumbstruck. He didn’t know whether laugh is ass out or keep the advice in mind and try to act nicer towards Bert… whom he thought was a great guy, to be honest. Because between being captain of the volley squad, being a social active party guy –even if with that scaredy cat attitude you would never suspect-, keeping up with school quite well AND keeping up with Reiner, well… you had to have something in you, no doubt. But mostly, Jean considered pulling his head out of his ass because Reiner was a great guy, but he also was huge and menacing and helplessly gone for Bert, so he would do anything for the shy boy. And Jean knew that Eren would’ve gladly helped the blonde giant to hide his corpse.

Still, Jean was an ass. He knew it, his parents knew it, his friends knew it, Steve Jobs knew it, now that he was in Heaven or everywhere his soul might be floating. So, it’s only natural that when he was stuck in a room working on an essay on a Friday night, he had to make those around him pay for his horrible destiny. “Whatever.” He raised  his hands before himself, surrendering.

“Come on, if we end this during the week end, we won’t be forced to pull all-nighters before handing in the project.” Prompted Marco, resuming his writing.

And in such a way they spent the evening, stopping at one point  for a pizza and some tv, to start again shortly after. As Marco foretold, once they had gathered a good amount of notions, they only had to combine them together –“With _logic_ , Jean, it’s not enough to stick two concepts together through an adverb or a conjunction. I know you can do it, so please, PLEASE squeeze some sense out of that hamster that’s _dying_ running on its wheel in the attempt to keep you focused! I can _hear_ it dying!”. Marco was a damn comedian and despite the not-so-subtle insult, Jean laughed. Hard. Because, god, a hamster.

After two long hours, Jean’s neck ached from the stiff position he kept for too long, so he raised his head, hearing the clear pop of something. “Ouch!” he complained. He rubbed his eyes, tired from fixing Marco’s laptop all night and realizing that was one in the morning.

“Wow. Man, you’re a _machine_. Look at the hour!”

“Mnh?” murmured Marco raising his head from the computer screen “What? Already this late?” while saying that, he moved his knotted shoulders. “I didn’t realize… damn. No wonder I’m tired!” he giggled. Marco wonder-guy Bodt _giggled_. And Jean snorted, amused, not thinking that little sound was adorable. Not at all. Because, mind you, Marco Bodt’s giggle was a very manly giggle. And Jean was absolutely licensed to like any manly giggle he heard. But whatever, why are we even debating what Jean Kirschtein said; you only have to smile, nod and agree, and we can all go home happy.

“Bodt, I swear that if I can’t unglue myself from your floor you’ll have to feed me and take care of me!” complained Jean, moving slightly from the spot on the floor that surely had his ass carved in. “And I think my phone has embedded into my thigh… next time I’ll take a flight I’ll have issues. Help me explain to the security how it happened, please.”

“Oh, stop that, you old granny. Check your phone instead and tell me what Connie and Sasha said.” Commented Marco. At some point during their study session, Jean had silenced his phone, pulling off even the vibration, because Connie and his bat crazy girlfriend had started to write a waterfall of nonsense in their group chat. So, at the thirteenth message, the boy cut off all the ties with the outside world and was left with only the soothing –and painfully cerebral productive- company of the freckled Hamster Whisperer.

“Oh, right. Those dorks were at the big event in the west wing… what was that for?” he asked, while fixing the phone.

“I don’t remember…”said Marco vaguely “Something along the birthday of the head cheerleader?”

“No, I think that’s next saturday…I really want to go to that one. I like Petra and I like how she can bear and actually work with people like Ymir and Annie.” Jean shook his head “Seriously, the girl deserves a statue in the main hall!”

Petra was a petite strawberry-blonde haired girl, a senior this year, with reflexes and flexibility of a cat, that well deserved her the title of head cheerleader since her second year. She was sweet and had a sunny personality, but Jean knew from Mikasa that she could be dreadful if one of her girls didn’t follow her indications or if someone didn’t respect her and her squad.

Marco laughed “Yeah, I think that since her outburst her first year, nobody has never dared to question Petra!” It had happened that one of the new football player, named Auruo Bozado, one of Ackerman ass-kissers, thought cheerleaders were your typical stupid blonds to date just to pass time. Well, Petra literally kicked his head outta his ass and from then on, nobody has ever questioned that Petra’s cheerleaders were indeed athletes and not inflatable dolls.

Moreover, the whole student body knew that Petra was under the direct protection of Hanji Zoe, aka _Huey_ , the third crazy nephew of Uncle Scrooge MacDuck –the other two being Levi ( _Dewey_ , because it was perfect for a screwy guy) and Erwin (obviously _Louie_ , because it sounded classy). She was one of the smartest student Trost had ever had, and like all genius in history, she was bat crazy. Sometimes bordering schizophrenia, and she was known to have the strangest ideas. Most of the times her two best friends were able to contain the damages, but when she was unguarded, she acted like the evil MacGyver. Never leave Hanji Zoe with a rubber and a clip. _Never ever_ for the love of Lady Gaga. If you don’t believe it, just ask the Chancellor why last summer all the air conditioners started to produce foam. Pink foam.

Hence, why you didn’t want to mess with Petra. Yeah, Trost was sort of a family and family protected each other, duh. Something inside Jean swelled in pride at the thought.

“What…!” Jean began to read the infinity of messages sent by Connie and Sasha.

“Jean? Is everything all right?” asked Marco and the two-toned guy extended his arm to let the other read.

 ** _Don Con_** _[10.30 PM]:_ _the world’s so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him, and that's why they have godfathers_

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.30 PM]: Connie oh mfg stop that’s old man_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[10.31 PM]: Yeah ConBon baby! Same old, same Bald AHAHAHAH! Srsly just bring me another snack will ya <3_

**_Bullettproof Reiner_ ** _[10.31 PM]: yeaah my fav fairy godfather! Rock da party man!_

**_Don Con_ ** _[10.32 PM]: what do you want? Wait there’s only some pizza left._

**_The Armin_ ** _[10.32 PM]: guys you already tipsy??_

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.33 PM]: Ar where tf are u? I’ve got all your things with me come and get them!_

**_The Armin_ ** _[10.34 PM]: I’m in 104 bring them to me now_

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.34 PM]: no man I love you but once I entered that room and that was enough I still have nightmares. I leave everything out the door_

**_Mikasa_ ** _[10.35 PM]: stop that now Eren. Did he give you something to drink? BEFORE the party. AGAIN_

**_Don Con_ ** _[10.35 PM]: Sash? Sash is pizza ok_

**_The Armin_ ** _[10.36 PM]: Eren you’re useless and brainless, Jean is right._

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.36 PM]: WHAT mikasa I can do what I want thank you I’m an adult_

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.36 PM]: and Jean is a party hog what does he even know_

**_JeagerMeister_ ** _[10.36 PM]: fuck you pony boy if you reading. Nah ‘m joking love you. A little_

**_Bullettproof Reiner_ ** _[10.37 PM]: guys Bertl and I are going. See u later?_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[10.38 PM]: yeaaahhh paaartyyyy!!!! Me and ConBon are watching all this party thing for youuuuu <3 we’re keeping it hot and steamin’_

**_Annette_ ** _[10.39 PM] **:** more like you are eating the party. Later Reiner _

**_Don Con_ ** _[10.40 PM]: Sash I’m bringing pizza you like it or not!!1!_

Jean snorted, rolling his eyes “My god it goes on for more than ten minutes! What were they doing?!” he kept scrolling down all the meaningless banter between his friends “If you’re interested –and I know you’re not- Sasha eat the pizza. And everything else she found around, apparently.”

Marco was laughing “They know how to have fun, don’t they?”

“Yes, if you mean that they’re already wasted before even hitting the feast! Wait, there are some new messages…”

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.40 AM]: guys_

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.40 AM]: GUYS_

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.40 AM]: guys pls some1 answaer_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[1.41 AM]: tell me bb <4_

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.42 AM]: not u sash!!!!!!!! You’re be side me for sthe love of lady gaga111_

At this point Marco had tears in his eyes from laughing and Shakespeare was rolling and crying in his tomb.

“First time seeing Connie and Sasha drunken message style?” Jean arched one of his eyebrow, going on reading. Marco nodded, his eyes on Jean’s phone.

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.45 AM]: jen don t disappoint me ANSWER tell me everything ka_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[1.45 AM]: okay!!1234! :-D_

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.46 AM]: jan youll never believe what I’m seeing LOOK pray marco for me oh my freckled jesus help me_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[1.46 AM]: AMEN!_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[1.47 AM]: aawwww armin’s soooo qt!!!and look at our little jeagerbomb ConBon look!LOOK_

**_Don Con_ ** _[01.47 AM]: im lookin sash im lookin and I don’t want to let’s go home I’m about to trhwo up_

**_Hunger Babe_ ** _[1.47 AM]: ooook ook keep your stomach in check oh I see you I’m comin to rescue you baaaaabe!!!_

After that, there were no more messages.

Jean clicked on the photo Connie sent him, but it was out of focus and with the soft lights of the scene, he hardly recognized anything. Just one detail he could discern: a group of people all wearing black –leather?- clothes.

“And what the hell is this?!” exclaimed Jean, turning to Marco to see if he had a better intuition. But Marco was fixing the phone quite intensely, his body rigid, lips tight. When Jean didn’t say anything for at least two minutes, Marco shook from his reverie and turned to the shorter guy.

“W-what where you saying Jean?” he asked, but it was clear to the two-toned boy that the photo told Marco a different story.

“I didn’t say anything, dude. I don’t understand shit from this awful photo. Do you?”

“No, I don’t think I-“

“Marco, you know what it means?” cut off Jean, suspicious “I know Connie can be impressionable when drunk, but to send me this photo and to make all that drama… I don’t know.” He shrugged, but couldn’t shake the unpleasant sensation that the freckled guy knew something that he didn’t want to share “I guess tomorrow I’ll have to ask him.”

“Ah- Jean. Wait.” Marco stretched his arm and hooked his hand around Jean’s wrist “I- I think I know what Connie saw… what’s happening at the party.” He said and his voice was somewhat lower and more velvety and husky and all those things that lull you at the ungodly hour in the middle of the night. Jean repressed a shiver. He tried to not focus on Marco’s hand around his wrist, how their different skin colors complemented each other.

“So?” he prompted, tearing away his gaze from their hands. Jean didn’t understand why Marco was so hesitant to speak with him, and the fact that the reason could upset Connie in such a way… he was starting to worry.

“Well, I don’t know if you ever heard about… this- thing that happens once in a while, during parties…it’s sort of a strange thing but in a good way, so you don’t have to look all preoccupied or anything…”

Jean groaned, more and more confused “Marco why don’t you speak frankly to me? I won’t understand otherwise!”

Marco puffed air from his nose, looking for resolve. Once he found it, he looked right in Jean’s amber eyes “There’s a sort of urban legend here at Trost, something that could easily pass for a rumor, but Connie's photo is a little proof that it all could be true.” The freckled guy raised a hand to stop Jean from interrupting “They say that when there’s an important event for Trost social life, this group of people intrude the party and sort of… spice it up?”

“Spice it up? What does it even mean? Aren’t they some shady party sneakers? Don’t people shoo them away?” Jean asked “And who the hell are ‘they’?!” he air quoted, breaking the contact between their hands.

“They’re students, obviously. A very picturesque group that likes unusual things. They shake normal parties offering something different. But they dance and play with the others, so it’s really nothing worrying or dangerous. Some of them are just exhibitionists.” Marco’s eyebrows knitted together “There are some who don’t like this… straightforwardness, but I think that it allows people to let themselves go, to reconsider things under another perspective, to laugh and have fun. Most people like what they do.”

“Why are they… so wild? To fight the system and authority?” asked Jean, a faint note of mock in his tone.

“No. First of all, they act like that because they like it.” Marco shrugged “And since it’s sort of a hobby, wearing leather clothes and cuffs or other things alike, I think they thought Trost parties were the right place to show it. Second, they’re able to expand your mind, to make you more tolerant and respectful of others’ tastes. It’s a game, for now, but if you consider it in a wider perspective, you can say they train you for the outside world.”

“Well, I can sort of understand this…that’s something new, especially since no-one dares to act against them.” Jean said, thoughtful. He was impressed by those guys’ charisma. “But are you, Marco Bodt, telling me that at Trost University exists a sort of… bondage kinky club that sneaks in the more important events and I didn’t know it?!” Jean was upset, he considered himself part of the cream of social life and he never saw these guys. Hell, he hadn’t even heard of them!

“Well it’s not that they go around advertising! And more importantly, we are not speaking of any bondage kinky club, so stop playing films inside your mind, Kirschtein!” replied Marco, joking. ”In truth, you’ve been to a number of parties they infiltrated, but you were always too wasted to notice. One of their peculiarities, is that they come in very late, when people are tipsy and naturally more inclined to act on instinct and enjoy the show they provide, than act on prejudice and try to frame what the hell they’re doing, like any old moral asshole would do!” at the end of his speech, Marco’s voice and temper had considerably raised.

Jean was impressed by the passion Marco showed, when usually he preferred to convey his point through reasonable talks and polite smiles. Jean had just seen a part of the boy he knew only few other people had ever catch a glimpse of. Something similar to pride growled in the pit of his stomach.

“O-ok, man, I understand. I’m sorry if I- uhm, said something that upset you. I didn’t know anything of this, but now that you actually explained it to me, I think I’d really like to see these guys in action.” Said Jean, eager to retrieve Marco’s favor.

Marco was still slightly breathless, but quickly recomposed himself, smiling bashfully at his friend. But to Jean, who was beginning to recognize the emotions that stirred in the depth of those molasses eyes, was clear that Marco was still upset. For what, precisely, he couldn’t guess for the life of his… Maybe those kinky guys were friends of him? _No, Jean, not ‘kinky guys’ but ‘friendly eccentric and extroverted guys’. Yep. With cuffs, lashes, studs and combat leather boots._

“I’m sorry Jean, I don’t know what got to me. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a way…” he scratched shyly his neck, daring to look at Jean “I’m really sorry, but I…” he inhaled, gathering courage, maybe “I really respect those who can stand for themselves and don’t care about what people or society expect from them. And I think that once we’ll be in the world, like functional adults, we’ll have this privilege no more. So, at least here, in this little world, it could be… good, to express yourself. Just waiting to learn how to express yourself through the means the world can give you.” Marco’s last words were almost a whisper and Jean could see a heavy burden weighing on his shoulders.

He really didn’t know what to say, because he was no longer in front of Marco Bodt, but in front of a fragile thread that connected two worlds far, far apart. That distance was probably the reason why adolescence is parents’ worst nightmare and adulthood is like the Green Mile for teens. So, in his epiphany, Jean saw something of Ymir in Marco, with her freckles and tan skin; something of Armin with his knowing smile; something of Mikasa with her silences that spoke volumes; something of Eren with his passion; something of the beautiful Historia with her sweetness. But in this boy, all that was elevated to nth power. And Jean saw something of himself, in how precariously that image of youth stood between those two universes.

So Jean did the first thing his instincts told him to do: he hugged Marco. He wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders, intimating him to slightly bend forward –and strangely enough, Jean found comfort in this fact. “I know.” He said in a somber voice. “You’re right, it’s good to learn what you want – what you truly, really want and are, before the world pollution sidetracks you. But it’s better to play with its rules, because in that way you can exploit it but it cannot corrupt you.”

Marco didn’t respond immediately to the hug, but slowly raised his hands, resting them on Jean’s elbows. Almost to be sure to keep him there. After all the things that poured out his mouth, Marco felt drained. He closed his eyes, sighed and abandoned a little of his weight on Jean’s shoulder, relieved by his warm presence and the familiar smell of coffee and soap and sleepiness and late hours. Marco swore he could stay like this forever.

All too soon, Jean let go and looked at Marco in the eyes “At least, I hope what I said had any sense.” He chuckled, abashed.

“That was very Armin like, Jean, so it had a lot of sense.” Assured him the freckled guy.

“Hehe, Sasha would say that some Armin’s _arminity_ finally rubbed off me!”

Marco smiled, and the wrinkles beside his eyes didn’t hide the same slow burning ashes of before. They were all too clear and all too cool again to let anything ooze out. He was such a mysterious guy: all fluffy and open at first sight, but after tonight, the two-toned haired guy was convinced that there was so much more about Marco Bodt than what the boy was keen to reveal.

But Jean decided that for a _sober_ heart-to-heart conversation at two in the morning of a fucking Friday, he could be satisfied. The rest could wait, and then he would drag Marco to Petra’s party: they would be hopefully tipsy and lax-tongued, and that would be the chance to strike like the perfect arrow Jean knew he could be.

* * *

 

Levi knew he would have to shower in five minutes, dry himself and put on some clothes in the other remaining five minutes, before that dandy motherfucker Dok would barge into the locker rooms like he owned the _fucking_ place. _Tch_. After their football workouts, it was the turn of the soccer club. They always left a shit ton of soil and mud on the tiled floor but a scampering swain like Nile wouldn’t be bothered. God, maybe he even _liked it_.

 _Oh, for all the Valhalla deities, mind, don’t go there! Turn back to the soothing hot shower you earned. Yeah, stay there, on the smooth and fragrant foam you soon will be in._ Which reminded him…

“Hey, you lazy bums, move your stinking asses!” Levi called from the locker room in the direction of the showers “It’s a shower after three hours of workouts, you don’t have to scrape off your skin!” his patience was wearing thin. He _needed_ to wash himself. “Unless the last time you showered was on Easter, 1999. In that case, yes, you have to scrape your skin off. But quickly!” he barked.

“Come on, Levi, let them relax a bit.” Said Erwin in all his semi-naked and water-dripping glory, a towel hanging loosely on his waist. _Jesus, above those caterpillar eyebrows, you gave the blonde the exhibitionism. Just why?! For compensation, son, for compensation._

“Tch. They can relax out of here, we’re not in some flowery SPA. I have to shower too, and I’d really –REALLY- like to do it before Christmas!” Grumbled Levi, the last sentence was screamed again over the sound of  merry voices and running water. He was sitting in one of the wooden benches in the center of the locker room, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. He was still wearing the squad workout uniform (a pair of blue shorts and white polo with the blazon of Trost) and it was well dirtied with mud and grass. He was a clean freak and everyone in his squad had it shoved nicely in their skull, but he didn’t mind dirtying his hands when required: did he have to play? Fine, a little mud could be washed away. Did he have to run fifteen laps on the field because Erwin was an annoying dick and claimed they needed to work on their resistance? Fine, sweat was something disgustingly physiological, but washable. Until the sweat was his and his own only. And until he could shower right away. Did he have to beat up some douche because whatever reason? Well, if Mike and Auruo couldn’t do shit without him, Levi supposed he could break his own rules and then the douche’s nose, so that he learnt to go and jump off a cliff the next time, just never bother him again, _fuck you very much_.

But now… this waiting was excruciating! “I swear I’ll kick your soapy asses out the shower and I’ll leave you to the crowd, naked as your mothers ejected you!” Levi barked again, his rage fueled by Erwin trying to hide his sniggers. It was easy for Captain Cowlick America to laugh at his misfortunes, but just when Levi was considering to whip the tall blond with his wet towel, Farlan and Mike waltzed out from the showers, soon followed by their companions. “Ew, gross!” commented the Captain, squeezing his eyes shut: didn’t the poor mothers of those uncultured bipeds, teach them the meaning of fucking modesty?!

“We don’t believe you anymore, Levi, we know that deep down your tiny, dried, black heart you love us!” laughed Farlan, used to his Captain’s insults. In fact, Levi did love his companions, many of which he was friend with. But that and share a shower, strictly for non-sexual purposes, was a no-no for the raven haired guy. He wasn’t interested in naked mountains of muscle and heavy smell of testosterone, sue him.

“Oi, Church, keep your tongue cozy and still into that furnace of a mouth!” said Auruo, that was giving him his back, busy in finding his clothes in his lock.

“Shush, ugly! Don’t try to copy the Captain, you’re doing a really poor figure!” echoed Erd, while Gunther whipped Auruo’s ass with the towel he was drying with, eliciting a strangled scream and a considerable jump from the ash blond male.

“Bleah, super gross!” and with that said, Levi run for his life towards the now empty shower stalls, just when evil Eyebrows Overlord _finally_ decided to play his role and hurried the squad. _Thank fuck_ , Levi thought, releasing a satisfied sigh when the hot jet of water hit his aching muscles. Ok, now, maybe he exaggerated when he said he only got five minutes to shower, because fifteen were already passed and he was lazily rinsing himself. He had almost regained his good humor.

_-THUNK-_

Aaand, there it goes his almost-good mood. Just when the voices had finally left his ears, _some imbecile had to come in and ruin his fucking honestly earned shower time._ “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck let you think that you could-“ Levi stopped in his tirade when, turning, he saw the source of the sound.

Well, he didn’t go wrong with the imbecile thing, because Eren Jeager was grinning from the other part of the shower room. Levi’s lips curled and he leaned his forearms on the thin divisor of his stall, that –alas!- arrived up to his shoulders.

“So.” Said Eren after clearing his throat.

“So.” Repeated Levi, taking his time in pronouncing the S of the word.

They considered one another for a bunch of seconds, then Eren crossed the room, still wearing his school clothes –dark fitting jeans, a washed band t-shirt and a grey hoodie-, his trade mark grin on his face. Levi had to expect what was coming, since the last time he saw the boy, they were in public and he knew he was dying to drill Levi with questions. _Mmh, if he was inspired he could give the tanned boy his answers. But it depended._ When Eren was finally in front of him, his snickers squeaking on the tiles, Levi arched a thin eyebrow.

“So, brat, what are you doing here?” he asked, bathing in those viridian eyes that always could wash away some of the dirt under the soles of his soul. Levi closed the tap of his shower, letting water drip on his back.

“I’m waiting the rest of my squad to arrive, so that we can start our workout session, _Captain_.” Damn, the way that stupid kid’s voice dropped as he called him _did things_ to Levi. And although he could school his expression perfectly –in fact, he was a pro at blanched stares-, he couldn’t do _shit_ for the goosebumps that were threatening to crumble his image, since he was still stark naked!

“The lockers are in the other room, son. Make space for you seniors and let me get the fuck out of here before your kinds invade my space.” Replied Levi, adjusting his towel on his waist and exiting the stall.

“Wait wait wait, Nile is still stuck with some paperwork Armin got him to supervise. No need to rush.” And in saying so, Eren planted himself in front of Levi, looking slightly –mind you, only slightly!- down.

_The pompous asshole!_

“I was thinking that recently you and those two soul-eater demons have bothered Marco more than you usually do, so…” the tanned boy began, circling his arms around Levi’s wet form. When he tried to close the gap between them, he found the raven’s arms to prevent it, crossed over his chest.

“I’m soaked, idiot.” Scoffed Levi, but at Eren’s stubbornness he rolled his eyes and let the boy pull him against his warm chest. “ ‘The two souls eater demons’ as in Erwin and Hanji?” he asked, gripping Eren’s shirt on his sides. And hoping it was clean.

“Nope! Like in Erwin and Armin! I take for granted Hanji would follow whatever you and your undercut bro would do. But-“ he added, squeezing his big doe eyes. “I’m scared because with you three, you can easily conquer Trost, kill and offer Saint Bodt as sacrifice to Khali –we need a holy virgin and if he’s not a virgin anymore, at least we’re covered for the holiness part- and march on the White House before the Queen’s five o’clock tea!”

Levi regarded him with a steely blue -grey stare. “You finished with your mental film? Why don’t you retire from your soccer career and start to work for Hollywood as scriptwriter? With that rotten brain of yours, you could even earn some money. Just add some fuckin human eating monster to the story, pitiful human conditions –like living caged inside bad ass trees or walls- and some steam punk flying machine and BAM! You have it. Congratulation on your first Oscar.” The raven’s word dripped with sarcasm.

“Like titans?”

“Why am I speaking to you again?” huffed Levi, trying to disentangle himself from Eren’s hypnotic grip: the taller boy was tracing with his fingers the ink on Levi’s back, which lines he knew by heart. The raven swore he could stay like that for at least a week, but Nile Dok impended over their time.

Levi sighed, relaxing in his brat’s hold “We’re not planning anything. If anything, the scheming one is your dear Freckled Boy Next Door. He told Erwin and me that he was ready to bring in his _choice_. Armin’s in because of Erwin, obviously, and because your little fairy _knows_ Marco’s choice. Horrible choice, if you wanna my opinion.” As always Levi spilled the beans. He couldn’t say shit to Erwin, for falling into Arlert’s similar trap. He really couldn’t deny anything to his brat and in any case, sooner or later Eren would have known. No hurt in revealing it.

Eren puckered his lips, thinking, and the Captain swore he could see the cogs slowly swirling under that dark brown mop of hair. “Are you saying that Marco has finally decided to ask someone to join us?” Levi nodded. “And Armin knows that someone. Well, Armin’s pretty popular nowadays, he knows practically everyone, so it could be anyo-“ Eren stopped, noting Levi’s mute signals: the raven was getting annoyed. Eren was going out of track.

“It’s Jean!”

“Oh for the love of _god_ , thank fuck!” blurted Levi, rolling his eyes and opening his arms, defeated by the other boy’s density. “Marco has practically already tied him up to his own hip with a red ribbon!”

Eren weighed the new for an instant “Well, I think that if I look really carefully… like, really, really carefully… I think I could see that coming.” He finalized.

“Jaeger.” called Levi, resting his hands on the boy’s forearms to claim his attention again “Don’t start to worry. You stay there, looking all cute as shit and only do the Bright Eyes for me, yes?” the raven soothed him in his own particular way. “Stay out of their business.”

“Fuck you!” barked Eren “I’m worried for my friend, here! But I don’t know which one I’m worried for, okay? Because Marco is an angel and really, pony boy could never _dream_ of getting anyone better than Marco! Man, not eve his gran-gran-nephew could ever dream of finding someone so perfect, but… at the same time, I don’t know if Jean is ready for him.” Eren’s burst of rage had subsided. He could never stay angry at Levi for long.

“Don’t you think that Marco and Jean would be able to work that out by themselves?” said Levi, really hugging Eren back for the first time, his voice and his expression as neutral as ever. But his eyes… man, they were dancing with unspoken emotions. “It was the same for us, don’t you remember? And for Armin. And Mikasa, too. If Jean isn’t ready, he could always accept Marco for who he is and they could be friends, or acquaintances. Or horse and jockey, whatever they want to be. But I’m ready to bet that he’s a kinky little shit, under that straight white guy face he possesses.” Levi grinned.

Eren chuckled “Yeah, maybe you’re right” he sighed “I guess I just have to wait, right?”

“Yeah right, just don’t be a meddler and mind your own shit.” The raven replied with a shiver: his wet skin was starting to cool “I need to put on some clothes now. Fetch, Lessie.” He made to leave the stall, but Eren stopped him. Again. Levi growled “What. Now.” He better had a of fucking good reason, because he didn’t have the slightest intention to put up with the kid’s- _oh. OH!_

_Levi knew the look in Eren’s eyes._

“You’re always right and you’re always so good to me, Levi.” Eren was still looking at Levi through his lashes, his teal eyes catching the artificial light of the shower room and rendering it ten thousand time more beautiful. Okay, maybe Levi was heavily biased. Details, details.

Eren run his index from Levi’s jaw to his chin, dabbing it to make the raven tilt his head “Can I be good for you, too?” whispered the boy, his viridian eyes more and more intense, almost liquefying in pools of sea. Levi had barely the time to inhale, every witty come back died in his throat, incinerated by the soft lips pressing against his, buried by the slowness of the kiss, resuscitated by the hands guiding him into a deeper kiss.

Levi’s eyelids fluttered and closed against his will: he liked to watch Eren’s expressions. The boy was so simple to read and yet so full of facets… a puzzle the raven liked to compose and rearrange every time they clashed. He placed his hands over Eren’s forearms, keeping him in place. The tanned guy nibbled and sucked his lower lip, until the other opened his mouth, granting him access. For once, Levi let his brat lead the game, enjoying the sensations provided by Eren’s hot and slightly damp skin, his tongue playing inside his mouth – even if a good part of his brain _screamed_ horrified ad the mess he was in, after he had just taken a shower. He particularly liked the sweet moans and whines escaping Eren’s throat unconsciously every time the raven interrupted the kiss to catch some breath – and to woo those sinful noises, of fucking course.

That was all nice, but he was still naked and still in danger of being caught sucking faces with Eren by _stupid goatee Dok. He really, really wanted to avoid to knock him out so hard, to make sure he forgot anything. Hopefully, even his sad childhood,_ so Levi tried again to gently push Eren. “Oi, horny dog, stay!” he tried to order him. “We don’t have time. Besides, are you fucking kidding me?! In the locker room showers?! Some good choice, Romeo!”

Eren, like the stubborn shitstain he was, allowed Levi some space, just to low his hands, letting them roam the raven’s body and finally worshipping it like it deserved: yes, Levi was short, but he was a godsent five foot three package of addicting perfection. Milky skin stretched on hard muscles –not too much, like those Smith & Zacharias chunks of beef, that would be awful- in harmony with his sharp features and jet black hair.

Yet, if you had to ask Eren what was the particular about Levi that haunted his dream and kindled his nights –besides his sunny personality and language versatility worth of a sailor- were his _eyes_ : thin and keen, filled by drops of stormy skies defying turbulent waters. They were expressive and could reveal in a moment any thought that crossed the raven’s mind, if only one could be brave enough to watch into them.

And what Eren saw, as he kneeled on the tiled floor letting open mouthed kisses on Levi’s abdomen, was surprise, challenge and amusement. Briefly, because soon enough Levi fisted a hand in his hair “What in the burning hell are you trying to do?!” hissed Levi, his eyes darting towards the other room, still deserted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Eren, arching one of his eyebrows, letting his hands grazing down until they reached the towel around Levi’s waist, tugging at it gently.

“Like fuck it’s obvious, you braindead cockatoo! Get away from me!” _Cockatoo. Cockatoo?!_ Eren’s idiocy was starting to brush off Levi. _That was utterly stupid, with all the goddamn animals under the sky…!_ he slapped away the boy hands, with no results. “Eren!” he urged again.

But the naughty boy relished in how perfect his name rolled down Levi’s tongue. He shivered and without waiting further, he rested a hand on Levi’s hip, pushed him against the shower stall and guided his other hand under the towel that still dared to hung on the Captain’s hips.

Then he grabbed Levi’s length and leaned forward, pressing open mouthed kisses near Levi’s navel, under it, then down the dark trail of trimmed black hair that hid under the towel. He kissed and sucked, caressing the raven’s sensitive skin with knowing touches: lightly on the head, then up the shaft and with a twist of his wrist, he slowed down again.

Levi was still trying to fight a lost battle, because _god_ , there were just a few things he liked more than seeing Eren’s mouth around his cock. And the fact that he knew how the boy absolutely enjoyed the sensation of Levi’s weight on his tongue, was a total turn on for the jock. The raven had taken his sweet time taming his wild beast, because now Eren didn’t even know what a gag reflex was anymore.

So Levi decided: to hell with everything, if he was having a blowjob offered, he certainly wasn’t one to refuse. “Make it quick, Bright Eyes.” He whispered, opening the hand he still had in Eren’s brown locks and petting him.

Eren hummed satisfied, happy to win once in a while, and finally stripped Levi of the offending towel: the older guy was well endowed, wider than long, but that were thoughts for another time. What counted, was that he was responding to Eren’s lovely attentions.

Eren put a hand behind Levi’s right knee and raised the leg to rest over his shoulder, laughing breathily just above Levi’s sensitive dick, the cold air causing goosebumps on the raven’s skin. “I’ll do my best.” He purred, glancing at the other from his lower positions, a knowing smirk curling those sinful lips, reddened and slightly swollen. Levi controlled his breath, because he knew that was a promise as well as a threat. He risked to be turned in a boneless puddle of- ok, _whatever. Goodbye coherent thoughts Levi needed you no more because for Steve Jobs’ blessed soul, Eren was parting his lips, slowly oh so slowly!,_ maintaining eye contact.

 _The little shi_ \- aaand he was gone. Levi’ breath hitched when Eren’s flattened his tongue and trailed it on his length, his eyes half-closed and shadowed by his long lashes, expression enraptured. Once he tasted Levi, he brought the head to his mouth, resting it against his lips for a moment, before parting them to slowly slide over the sensitive hardening member. With his other hand, the boy was tracing comforting patterns on Levi’s hips, aiding in keeping him still. But really – it was possessiveness.

Bit by bit, Levi abandoned his body in his brat’s care, arching his back and tipping his head against the cool stall. He was still in control, relaxing in the welcoming wet heat of Eren’s mouth. His instinct began to kick in when the boy moaned around his girth, his nose deep in his groin, tickling in a way that didn’t have to turn him on so much. Soon, Eren was able to take him all in. He swallowed one time and retracted immediately after, leaving the raven aching for more. The heat that crawled deep in the raven’s guts was enhanced by the water drying on his skin, cool and alien. Eren kept the rhythm steady, ignoring the bulging need between his own legs: this time he wanted to control the game and Levi had allowed him to, so he ignored the need to palm himself through his jeans. Eren opened again his eyes to fix his teal irises in blue-gray stormy vortices.

“D-dammit, Eren!” hissed Levi, finally sounding as wrecked as his trembling legs were already revealing. The hand in Eren’s hair was now tugging and pulling, suggesting the rhythm –he would never admit he liked the possessiveness he sensed through that act. But Eren ignored it, stopping for good.

Levi blinked owlishly, once, twice, three times at loss for words. Eren took advantage of the pause to regain some breath, kissing away the seconds by peppering with red marks Levi’s smooth thigh that rested in his shoulder. The raven’s muscles were trembling for the effort, so he shifted his other hand on Levi’s dick and pumped lazily, grazing with his thumb upon the slit, while applying different pressure on the length.

Soon enough the jock was lost again, and just when he began to vocalize his high, Eren knew he had to put an end to the teasing. He loved how vocal Levi could be, but that was such a private secret, that a locker room and maybe that pervert Dok eavesdropping behind the door, were hardly the ideal situation to let that little miracle happen.

So Eren took Levi in his mouth again with a wanton moan. The raven licked his lips at the sensation, his eyes heavy lidded and pupils blown by lust. _Holy fuck_ , how can that boy even exist with his magnetic eyes and magic mouth… oh, how Levi wanted to come deep into that fine throat of his! It seemed that the brat read his thoughts, because he quickened the bobbing of his head, hollowing his cheeks every time he retired along Levi’s dick and sometimes swallowing around him.

Suddenly Eren opened his eyes, a challenge hidden in them and took all of Levi again, while the hand that was holding Levi’s leg slid toward the raven’s ass. He caressed the taut skin, drawing circles on that taut butt and dove in the crave of his cheeks, finding the soft, hot skin of his perineum. Eren gave another little bob of his head, tickling Levi’s groin with his hair and nose, grazing his index to the tight ring of muscles of his hole. Levi squeezed his eyes, trying to float over the white burn that from his guts was slowly crawling along his chest, invading his lungs and throat, suffocating him. And he was somehow managing, until Eren swallowed again around his length, whimpering, and pressed two of his fingers on the warmness behind Levi’s balls. And that was it, the raven came with a shock in Eren’s throat, a snap of his back and Eren’s name on his dried lips.

Eren’s swallowed till the last drop, milking Levi through his orgasm, worshipping the alluring v formed by the raven’s muscles. When the hot wave subsided, Eren passed his tongue lazily on his swollen and abused lips, the bitter taste on his buds enhanced by the smell of sex Levi emanated. The tanned boy hummed proudly, seeing how wrecked the raven was and knowing that he was the cause of such a sight.

“Yo-you’re out of…your mind.” panted Levi, trying to catch his breath, not an ounce of anger in his tired voice.

“Hn… I think you are out of your mind, in this moment.” Replied the boy, whose voice was as hoarse as the one of his mate. He was going to say something else, but Levi was collapsing to the floor and that was something the tanned boy had to avoid at any cost, if he wanted to see another day. “I got you, Levi.” He said with a soft smile, raising the raven in his arms. “I got you.”

Levi, already tired by lessons and bad ass workouts, after that five star blowjob didn’t find the strength to fight the action. He allowed Eren to rinse him again and deposit him in front of his locker just before the herd of soccer players flocked in. In his dazed state of mind, the raven noticed a very angry Nile, shouting against his team _where in the seven hells was the key of the door and why the fuck had he to go to the Chancellor office to retrieve a spare_.

Levi grinned: Eren had locked the two of them in. Again. _The little shit_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! this is my first contribute to the fandom, I hope you'll enjoy it. I got this stupid idea of kinky university super secret club from the beginning of Marilyn Manson's Tainted Love video... you know the part where he and his friends rock the obnoxious preppy party? Well, that part!
> 
> I'm sorry this is not beta'd, english isn't my first lenguage and I don't know anything about american university (other than what I see on tv), so feel free to correct me!


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